


From a Twisting Vine Wrapped Pen

by WordStorm



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Teitovar ir Kruinbor
Genre: CWs for each poem in the notes, Poetry, if there's anything explicit I'll add it here but for now just check the notes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:34:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27984690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WordStorm/pseuds/WordStorm
Summary: A collection of prose and verse poetry written by my character Teithor at various times throughout their life.Content warnings for each poem are in the notes, as is a mention of when during Teithor's life the poem was written.
Kudos: 1





	From a Twisting Vine Wrapped Pen

**Author's Note:**

> Implied depression, references to death and torture.  
> Minor spoilers for various stories that are yet to come.
> 
> Written by Teithor during their extended stay in the End post-[spoiler].

I was bright, shining and naive. My differences were unused, my insecurities would not knock me down. I was just one of many, despite how they feared, thanks to their wariness. I was a happy face in a crowd. I was careful. No-one would know without me telling that I was different. I learnt and learnt and devoured and played. I was just another of my generation. I was happy. I was innocent. 

I was chosen, my insecurities cast aside and my differences a crown on my brow. I was special, I was new. I was one of few, the first in ages, and I always had been. I was excited. I was reckless and still naive. Many knew, for I showed them how I was different. I learnt and learnt and made mistakes and fell and regretted. I was not what I had been raised to be, but I came back. I was guilty. I was bitter.  
I was chosen, plucked from from my regret and thrown into a ring. I was precious, I was interesting. I was one of many, one of the best. I had no choice. I was closed. Everyone knew, for they could see. I learnt and learnt and fought and froze and killed and killed and killed. I was not what I wanted to be. I was broken. I was desperate.  


I was a scholar, home again in pieces. I was torn, I was healing. I was one of few, but I was returning. I was loved again, and I gladly loved. I was careful. Everyone knew, but no-one seemed to care. I learnt and learnt and healed and grew and taught. I was home, family and friends surrounding me. I was happy. I was jaded.

I am a wraith, all I have loved and all who loved me now in ashes. I am shattered, I am stone. I am one of none where once there were many. I am cared for, but I do not belong. I am painful. Everyone knows, and though they wish to help me they are distant. I learn and learn and scar and scream and strengthen. I am alone, despite my surroundings. I am deathless. I am unescaping. 

I will be a wraith forevermore, a remnant of what has been. I will be steadfast, I will be strong. I will be one of several that I have yet to meet. I will use the lessons I have learnt. I will be and do better. I know what I am and what I have been and my future is before me. I will learn and learn and heal and grow and teach. I will not be broken. I will endure through every trial and joy. I will not be shaken.


End file.
